Lost in Transition
by Lone Ronin
Summary: An aging film star forms a bond with a young medical student while filming a commercial in Japan. Hanataro/Ganju one-shot. Loosely based on 'Lost in Translation'.


Lost in Transition

By: Loneronin

Summary: A fading film star forms an unlikely bond with a young medical student while filming a commercial in Japan.

Author's notes: If you missed the reference, this is very loosely based on Lost in Translation with the cast of Bleach and shameless cheesy romance crammed into it. I wrote it partially as form of self-therapy, as I'm currently planning to head back to school, hopefully to embark on a second (and better-paying) career in the near future. As of this writing, I still have lots of documents and paperwork to sort through, and have yet to receive an acceptance letter, it could go either way.

So this is for anyone who's ever been in a transition period, whether you've been between jobs, leaving/going back to school, starting/ending a relationship with a loved one, or just feeling plain lost and are trying to find yourself. Just keep in mind that life is full of different chapters, and the important part is learning how to move between them.

"He asked if hotel, to your is liking." The translator said in halting English as we entered the hotel.

My minder, Mr. Urahara and a bunch of people from his entourage continued to escort me along, bearing all kinds of expensive swag such as sake and fancy biscuits. Mr. Urahara blathered on casually as if I was fluent in Japanese while we exchanged more bows, business cards and handshakes. He was a bit of a strange guy, always wearing a black cloak with a white diamond pattern at the hem over his dark green kimono, with a green-striped bucket hat and traditional wooden clogs while everyone else in his entourage wore western style business suits and modern clothing. He was a friend of my older sister and closest to her long-time friend, Yourichi but I had only met them a few times and didn't know either of them that well. I couldn't help but suspect he knew more English than he let on.

"Urahara-san, to do pick up tomorrow." The translator struggled to explain what he said.

I just smiled and nodded as the group finally left me alone to ponder the circumstances that had led me here.

It's never easy being an actor. Even though I had been doing it since childhood, it had mostly been bit roles, before getting secondary gigs in B-Movies and sitcoms for most of my teens. As I got older, I got a few serious roles in dramatic films worthy of winning Oscars, but I mostly became known for being 'Hollywood Ugly', having the rugged look best suited to dark anti-heroes and the occasional villain in action movie franchises, next to the perfectly chiselled, handsome golden boys who played the straight laced, Ace-type heroes who could work as underwear models.

But the times were changing and the gruff, hairy-chested, manly look had started to fall by the wayside in favour of the sensitive, effeminate pretty boy. My older sister, Kukaku said I had nothing to complain about; she pointed out that male actors can pick up roles as long as they can remember their lines, female actors are old and busted at thirty. She still turned heads, but her time in front of the camera had long since ended.

Not that I was doing that well myself. With acting roles in the United States drying up, her best friend Yourichi approached me with a pretty tempting offer. She explained how many of my older movies had become very popular in Japan in the last few years, in particular one action movie series known as Deadly Enforcers, where I played the primary greasy gangster villain for most of the movies. One of my character's quirks was that he had a fondness for drinks that contained the alcoholic liqueur midori, a sweet, bright green cordial distilled from melons. At the time it had just been another role. But someone from the famous Japanese brewing and distilling company Suntory saw the film and decided to ask if I would promote their liquor in a series of commercials.

Perfectly fluent in both English and Japanese, Yourichi had managed to arrange several film, photo and advertising campaigns for me in Japan through Mr. Urahara, who was apparently a big mover and shaker in the East Asian entertainment scene. I was getting two million dollars for little more than a couple weeks of work, all while hanging out in a posh hotel between filming.

At first Yourichi had said not to worry about it for a couple of weeks, then out of the blue called me one morning and told me to pack my bags because my plane was leaving that very afternoon. Although the flight itself had been skull-crushingly boring, it had been a mad scramble getting through security to get the gate on time and Mr. Urahara was no slouch about getting me to the hotel. Finally having some downtime, I handed my luggage and swag to the bellhop to take to my room, then sat at the bar and took in the view of the Tokyo skyline.

"It can't be." My ears pricked at the first un-accented English I heard all day.

"It looks like him." Said the second of a pair of businessmen who looked like they were in their late twenties to early thirties sitting next to me.

"Hey, are you Ganju Shiba?"

"Yeah." I answered.

The pair of young financial hot shots didn't seem to recognize me at first, a fairly regular occurrence when I didn't have my makeup and lights.

"My favourite movie is Urban Devils. You were so awesome in that car chase!" One of them said.

"I loved the part with the steamroller! That was hilarious!" the other added.

I passed them some autographs and exchanged some light banter before my smartphone told me I had a message. It was an email from Kukaku.

'I got the contract.' Was all it said.

Though she never managed to break into the big-time movies, Kukaku had been a pretty successful actress and model in her own right. Not wanting to leave the entertainment industry completely after her star had faded, she had started her own special effects company, setting up pyrotechnics and prop weapons, mostly for films and commercials. The contract she had been referring to was a deal with a major symphony orchestra to use her set of cannons in order to perform the 1812 Overture every other night for an entire season.

I was glad for her; after years of hard work, her company was really taking off. Besides, from the way my career was going, I knew it was only a matter of time before I joined her. Part of me was looking forward to the change of pace, but another part of me was nostalgic for my days as a young actor. It wasn't always fun, I didn't like the uncertainty of gigs, the constant travel, never knowing where your next paycheque was coming from or having to contemplate dropping your boxers in an adult film to pay the rent. But I wouldn't have traded my experiences performing crazy stunts and working with some of the most incredible directors, designers and actors for anything.

Tired and jet-lagged, my thoughts of reflection and self-doubt swirled through my head as I finished my drink and called it a night.

* * *

><p>The director gestured and talked on as the makeup artist smoothed out my hair and tuxedo in preparation for the first filming of the commercial. I would have appreciated his passion more if I had a vague idea of what he was talking about.<p>

I had no idea where Mr. Urahara got this translator, some college guy who kept flipping through his Japanese to English dictionary and notebook, he wasn't much help. Yourichi had planned to meet me with Mr. Urahara, but issues with her family's international shipping company had delayed her.

"He says he wants you, turn to your right, look at camera." The translator said in stilted English as the makeup artist did one final check of the set before leaving.

"Are you sure that's it? I'm pretty sure he said more than that." It was more of a musing to myself than an attempt to understand what I needed to do at this point, since it was clear that the translator still needed to work on his English.

The shoot began and I turned to the camera and started my line. I got through a couple of words before...

"Cut-o, cut-o, cut-o!" The director stormed onto the set and picked up the bottle, going on while waving it around for emphasis.

A few more minutes of talking and the translator gave me the Coles Notes version.

"He says, slowly, more intensity."

We got the camera going again. I said my line in a more dramatic fashion.

"Cut-o, cut-o, cut-o!" More rambling and wild gestures from the director.

This was going to be a long shoot.

* * *

><p>Back at the hotel the day after my second day of filming, my body was still adjusting to Tokyo time. I was in my room, waiting on Mr. Urahara to take me to the next photo session. He was due any minute now, so there was nothing to do but wait. I tried watching some television. The first channel was some cute girly anime with rainbow colored costumes and magical weapons. Why does their hair always have to be the color of sports drinks?<p>

Flipping the channel, I came to one of my old action films from back in the day. It was one of my favourite scenes too, the one where I was duel wielding AK-47s while spouting off an awesome one liner about kicking ass and chewing gum. That had been a fun project. The voice they had used to dub my lines over sounded nothing like mine. It seemed more like he was growling than speaking.

I flipped the channel a third time to a weird game show with an event that started with a bunch of guys flinging whipped cream at each other, before one of the teams picked up some pool noodles and hit each other. I thought I had figured out what the heck was going on, before more of the contestants began diving into a pool of water and swimming towards several bowls of noodles set up at a table.

Oddly enough, the commercial on the fourth channel I changed it to made even less sense to me than the game show.

'This country is so bizarre.' I thought before I heard the knock at the door.

* * *

><p>This time they were taking photos for posters and promotional material.<p>

According to my translator, Mr. Urahara wanted to inform me that the higher-ups at Suntory had loved the initial shots of the midori commercial, and that they were asking me to stay a few days longer not just for the photo shoot, but also to do an interview for a television show. I had no idea who the host was or what the show was like, but my translator assured me the host was the 'Johnny Carson' of Japan. By now it didn't surprise me that despite my translator's less than perfect English, he knew exactly who Johnny Carson was.

"He says you are pretend, part of 'Rat pack'." He tried to translate the photographer's instructions.

I turned to the camera and gave my best 'cool tough guy' stare. The cameraman adjusted the angles and lighting and snapped a bunch of shots. Unlike the commercial there were no long winded speeches and sweeping motions going on about what kind of look or pose they wanted. The photographer just snapped picture after picture as if I were a bowl of cereal.

It was going so smoothly I hardly even needed to think about what I was doing at that particular moment, so my mind started to wander, and my thoughts turned to how I had ended up in this strange situation. About a week before I had left America, I had had a really interesting conversation with a famous writer I had met at a party, about how globalization has affected pop culture. I had thought it interesting at the time, but I hadn't really anticipated the possibility that I was going to actually be experiencing its effects soon after. During my downtime, I had tried talking to a few people while wandering around the hotel. Whenever I ran into anyone with any grasp of English and they found out I was an actor in America, they threw me for a loop and would ask if I was into trends that had gone out years ago which I had never given much thought, such as heavy metal music or Frank Sinatra.

I was in an upside down world. People in North America wore shirts with kanji and they wanted to see the anime of Miyazaki and samurai films of Kurosawa from Japan, while people in Japan walked around in shirts with roman letters and they wanted the classic comedy of Johnny Carson and images of the Rat Pack with their cocktails and cigars. I was in the middle of this cultural exchange looking out, and it probably didn't make any more sense to me than an otaku or fanboy looking from the outside in.

Wrapping up the photography session, I was unceremoniously rushed back to the hotel and left to my own devices on the explanation that Mr. Urahara had another commitment he needed to attend to before he and his entourage took off. I had a couple days to enjoy the city before the interview, so I visited a Shinto shrine and some traditional gardens not far from the hotel. Working in the entertainment industry, I was always running into these New Age types who were always trying to promote that Zen-Buddhist philoso-babble, but I never really got into it. I tried to be polite even though I thought most of them were just trying to sell their books or DVDs or attempting to convince themselves they were 'deep' and 'spiritual' by latching on to something exotic. But looking around now I figured that at least a few of had to have been at least a little sincere; the carefully planned minimalism of the trees, mosses and stones was dramatic, beautiful and serene all at once. As I took in the scenery, a traditional wedding party approached the shrine. The most striking thing I noticed was the bride, who wore a pure white kimono with a broad hat, her lips painted bright red. I tried to bow out of respect but they didn't pay any attention to me.

Getting back from the gardens, I wandered around the hotel. There weren't as many expats or English speaking tourists staying at the hotel as I had been expecting. I later learned it had been a combination of a Japanese business convention and a trade show for buying real estate in Dubai that were being held in the hotel while I was there. Poking my head into one of the conference rooms, I came across a free ikebana (flower arranging) lesson. A little old lady in a kimono guided me to a free spot where some flowers and a vase were laid out. I was the only man in the room, but the women and girls were pretty nice about it.

Coming back from the ikebana lesson, I ran into him.

Almost everyone around me was ten years younger and wearing a neutrally-colored suit, while I was walking around in jeans and short sleeves, with a brightly colored jacket, shades and bandanna. Even though I stuck out from the crowd, most people didn't pay any attention to me, or would look quickly to avoid being rude. Walking towards me from down the hall, there was one young man who seemed to notice me and while looking at my flashy style, forgot to pay attention to where he was going. Tripping over his own feet, he started to fall. I reached out and grabbed his arm to prevent him from doing a face plant.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yes, thank you." The young man replied in perfect English.

He was a tiny guy, barely clearing five feet. He had a tired look in his eyes and seemed rather jet-lagged. Despite his size and shy demeanor, he seemed to carry himself with a clear, quiet countenance. With his small, slight build, he could have easily passed for a teenager, but when you got up close, you could tell from his manners and dress that he was a young adult. Dressed like an awkward college student in a black turtleneck, with a teal jacket, slacks, mittens and a scarf, he seemed just as out of place as I was with the straight-laced conference crowd.

"Sorry about that, it's been a long flight." He said without even so much as an accent.

"Hey, it's all right. Why don't you sit and have a chat with me for a bit? My Japanese isn't that good." I answered.

"Okay. I'm Hanataro Yamada." He introduced himself as we sat down at the hotel bar.

"I'm Ganju Shiba." I replied as a waitress arrived to take our orders.

I ordered a whiskey sour. I had expected him to ask for something sweet like a rum and coke, but instead he just said "Coffee, black."

"A little late for coffee, don't you think?" I asked.

"I can't sleep. Um, have I seen you somewhere?" he looked at me quizzically.

"If you watched a lot of television and action movies from about fifteen years ago, you've probably seen me lots of times." I told him

"Oh, I guess that might explain it, so you used to be a big actor?" he asked.

"I am big, it's the pictures that got small!" I answered, pretending to ham it up.

"Is that from a movie?" Hanataro asked.

"It's from Sunset Boulevard." I answered.

He gave me a blank look.

"Crazy old movie starlet, lives alone with her butler, kills the writer? And then at the end, she says 'All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close up'." I explained.

There was a pause as the waitress brought our drinks and we seemed to hit it off right away.

"So that's where that line is from? I don't really watch a lot of movies." He said as he loaded his coffee with as much milk and sugar as the mug would hold.

The joke was lost, best to just move on.

"So what brings you to Tokyo?" I asked.

"I'm visiting my older brother." Hanataro answered.

"So, you were born here?"

"Yes, I, well, we left Japan when I was a baby, but I grew up in the United States, I felt I needed to get in one last visit before starting medical school." He explained in a halting manner, like he was trying to hold something back.

"You're a student? Are you sure you're in the right hotel?" I asked playfully.

"I certainly hope so, or my chauffer might get fired." He laughed gently.

"You have a chauffer?" I asked.

"Well, technically, a friend of the family has one, I'm just borrowing him while I'm here." Hanataro replied.

"So, what are you doing here?" he asked after a pause.

"Lots of things. Not sleeping, earning a couple million dollars, promoting midori, contemplating a new phase of life with something other than acting,.." I droned on, sipping my drink.

"Aren't you supposed to buy a Mustang?" Hanataro suggested.

"What's that got to do with anything?" I asked.

"When you have a mid-life crisis, you're supposed to get a nice new sports car to cope." He answered.

"I think that's for a normal person. When you're an actor, you take roles for kiddie movies and independent arthouse flicks." I remarked.

"Is that what you're doing?" he asked.

"No, I'm not really having any sort of crisis. I'm in more of a transition phase." I answered.

"Aren't we all?" He asked.

He seemed so sweet and innocent; you would probably never have guessed he was a medical student from a well-off family if you met him on the street. I had never believed in love at first sight before, but I knew I at least really liked him right away.

The conversation shifted around as he asked me about what it was like being a professional actor, and how movies were made. He didn't know anything about movies or the arts, but was very intelligent and curious, asking me lots of questions about music, movies, performing in theatre and the commercial shoot that had brought me here. He also had his own share of interesting experiences of travelling the world while growing up; he had always loved the natural sciences and often visited national parks, museums, gardens and aquariums rather than the usual tourist landmarks that most people went to.

Needless to say, we spent the entire afternoon learning from each other, losing track of the time until we glanced out the window and realized it was dark. Ordering some sushi for dinner, Hanataro used his chopsticks with the skill of a samurai wielding his sword, while I jabbed about for a bit before he finally assured me it was just fine to use my fingers or a fork. Finishing dinner, neither of us had anywhere we needed to go that night, so we continued to walk around the hotel, finally winding up in the lobby arcade on the ground floor of the hotel.

The arcade wasn't like any of the quarter crunching places I had ever seen back in the States. For one thing, video games weren't viewed as being just for kids; there were people of all ages, from teens with bleached hair, to twenty-somethings who smoked while they played in an attempt to look tough, to stressed middle-aged salarymen. They also weren't content to slouch and button-mash either; there were a lot of rhythm games, where people pretended to bang taiko drums, play the guitar, or be DJ in time to the instructions on the screen. Even when playing video games, they seemed to prefer to be told what to do.

After a few games, Hanataro checked his phone and realizing he had a text message, his face lit up.

"I know what we can do, come on!" he said, grabbing me by the hand.

We dashed out of the arcade, then through a pachinko parlour before running out to the street, explaining excitedly along the way that we were meeting a family friend.

"Her family's descended from nobility and samurai, they own some of the best clubs and lounges around downtown. Her older brother kind of scares me, but she's really nice. Her friends just finished a modeling shoot and..."

Looking around, we spotted a group of sharp looking twenty-somethings calling out and waving to him.

"Rukia-san!" he cried out, hugging a petite young woman with her hair cut just below the shoulders.

* * *

><p>"Now you know you're number one, shining bright for everyone, livin' out your fantasy, the brightest star they've ever seen, yeah!" The guy with the bleached orange hair, I think his name was Ichigo, caterwauled in accented English into the karaoke machine as his rock song finished.<p>

We laughed and clapped as glasses clinked and more drinks were poured, with everyone enjoying a private lounge at the fancy nightclub owned by Rukia's family. Hanataro and 'Miss Rukia' (as he referred to her) sat alongside a pretty girl named Orihime, while Ishida and Sado relaxed and sipped their drinks. A few others whose names I couldn't quite recall danced or played with their camera phones between the drunken revelry and hilariously bad karaoke.

"Butter." one young woman with braided hair, a revealing top and a black micro-mini skirt said as she snapped a picture.

As Hanataro put on a costume and took the microphone, their other friend Renji, continued telling me his drunken story about his surfing trip in a mix of broken Japanese and English. He had a better dye job than Ichigo, but his hair was far too red to be natural. I had no idea what he was saying, but I'm sure it was pretty funny.

Hanataro picked a Japanese song, then tried to sing into the machine while keeping the bright pink wig and silly yellow trenchcoat Rukia and Orihime had dressed him in from falling off and wasn't very successful at either task. After finishing his song and sitting down, I noticed Renji started getting a bit too touchy-feely with Hanataro.

I couldn't understand what they were saying, but Hanataro was obviously getting uncomfortable, trying to push him away and slip out of his grip. But Renji decided this was a sign to start kissing him openly while trying to pull him close. Worried about his safety, and maybe on some level a little jealous, I intervened and practically pried Renji off. Figuring body language was the best way to get through to him, I glared at him, as I held Hanataro close while stroking his hair, and he finally backed off with a look that seemed to say 'Why didn't you just say so?'. Hanataro blushed, but leaned into me and didn't say anything. I figured maybe it was time to go.

Hanataro thanked me shyly as we left the club. We missed the last train and wound up having to walk back to the hotel. Even in the middle of the night, the streets were just as busy as they would have been in the day and vendors kept trying to stop us and get us to buy their wares. I had no idea that such as thing as a donut with green tea flavoured icing existed, but I can honestly say it's one of the most delicious things I've ever eaten at two in the morning.

It was pretty late by the time we got back to the hotel room. As the night dragged on and the temperature dropped, I wound up giving Hanataro my jacket, then carrying him back to his room bridal style and laying him on the bed in his room (apparently he hadn't slept at all in the last twenty four hours). The only difficult part of the task was putting him down. I admit it, he was very cute, as well as a heavy sleeper, not even stirring when I pulled the covers over him.

Heading back to my own room, I decided to take a bath before going to sleep. It was only as I was undressing that I realized I had left my jacket in Hanataro's room. Figuring it gave me just as good a reason as any to see him again after a good long sleep, I filled the tiny tub and crammed myself in as best as I could for a nice hot soak.

Realizing it was the middle of the day in America at that time, I took my smartphone out of my pants and called Kukaku. She had just finished having the cannons packed for shipping and was actually in the mood for a chat.

"How's the shoot going?" she asked.

"It's going. Hey, is Yourichi okay? I haven't heard from her at all." I asked.

"She's fine, I just got an e-mail from her. She said her plane in Jakarta is delayed due to a storm." She answered.

"Well, tell her she doesn't need to hurry. This is turning out more like a vacation than a work trip." I remarked.

"You sound more cheerful than usual, kind of distracted too." Kukaku remarked.

"I've got a two million dollar payday practically in the bag sis, why shouldn't I be cheerful?"

"You've had less enthusiasm over bigger paydays. I seem to recall you didn't even want to go when Yourichi first suggested it. Did you find something interesting to do?" She probed.

'Hm, good question.' I thought.

If I really had to describe my older sister with one word, it would definitely be perceptive.

* * *

><p>The following night, Mr. Urahara finally called me again, or at least one of his aides did, and invited me to what turned out to be a strip club.<p>

"Didn't Yourichi tell you I don't swing that way?" I asked as I sat down.

Mr. Urahara just smiled at me and pointed to the stripper dancing on the table, chattering away to me in Japanese. I was still convinced he was just pretending he didn't know a word of English. The aide who was supposed to be our translator was there, but he was too drunk to be of any use. Oh well, it wasn't as though we were going to be doing a lot of talking anyways.

Glancing around, I saw a few familiar faces from the previous night's lounge party. Suddenly, Mr. Urahara turned and started speaking to someone coming from behind me and my ears managed to pick up from the string of Japanese what sounded like 'Hanataro-san', prompting me to turn around.

"Hanataro, what are you doing here?" I asked, pleasantly surprised as he sat down with us.

"Mr. Urahara invited me, he knows Miss Rukia." Hanataro replied, returning my jacket.

"Where are the others?" he asked, looking around.

"They're in the middle of dance classes." I answered, motioning to Ichigo and Sado as they stared at the topless dancer on their table.

Lounging back casually in his chair while fanning himself, Mr. Urahara had a brief conversation with Hanataro in Japanese. I was pretty sure I briefly saw a look of pleasant surprise as Hanataro answered his question, before he purchased a round of drinks, then beckoned to the stripper and pointed at me. The stripper started grinding up against me while fondling her enormous breasts and pushing them into my face, her long strawberry blonde hair flipping and curling over and around her shoulders. I may not swing that way, but I actually don't mind looking at nude women, just not like this.

"Tell him she's not my type." I told Hanataro.

Hanataro translated to Mr. Urahara, before translating his answer in turn.

"He asked if you wanted someone with larger breasts." Hanataro explained.

Mr. Urahara gave a crooked smile from behind his hat and fan, obviously enjoying my discomfort as I shot him a look. Glancing over, I noticed Hanataro sipping his drink, watching the gyrating strippers with almost complete indifference. He might as well have been looking at a rock or a tree.

"You wanna go?" I asked him.

"Okay." He answered casually.

I waved goodbye to Mr. Urahara while Hanataro gave a polite bow as we stood up. Mr. Urahara didn't seem to mind at all, saying 'Sayonara!' cheerfully, as Hanataro followed me out of the strip club and we walked side-by-side, enjoying the chaos of the crowded streets and neon lights that marked the city's night life.

"Look, it's you!" he laughed, pointing out the ad for midori with my grinning mug on the side of a building.

"Thanks for helping me last night. Don't get angry with Renji, he's never tried to hurt me or anything." Hanataro added.

"Is he always that friendly?" I asked.

"We saw each other for a while when he had to do some work in America. I didn't think it was working out, but he's the persistent type." Hanataro explained.

He suddenly went silent, looking up at me as if there was something he wanted to say, but wasn't completely sure.

"Are you seeing anyone now?" I finally asked.

"N-no." He answered, suddenly sounding quiet and shy.

The way he looked up at me, it reminded me of this romantic comedy I had once starred in, during my early movie days. The script hadn't been well written, but the actress playing my love interest had been very talented, and she knew just how to give that sweet wistful look of a teenager meeting her first love. He was looking at me that exact same way.

Now that I thought about it, being around Hanataro, a part of me was also feeling younger and bolder again. I liked his curiosity and kind, generous nature. He seemed innocent on the surface, but was well aware of the realities of the world.

"Do you want to go back to the hotel?" I asked as I leaned my elbow out against him.

Hesitant at first, he nodded, as he quietly reached his arm out and hooked it around my own.

* * *

><p>Sitting in Hanataro's darkened room back at the hotel, we watched another badly-dubbed cheeseball action movie from my younger acting days that happened to be on while we drank sake out of wooden boxes.<p>

"...then at the last minute the motorcycle hit the ground wrong and sent me flying. The director decided to keep it in." I finished telling him how one of the most memorable scenes from the movie happened completely by accident.

"You still do your own stunts?" Hanataro asked.

"Nah, the insurance premiums got too high for the producers to allow it as I got older and became a big name." I replied.

Hanataro sipped from his box, when I recalled something that had been puzzling me.

"Isn't your older brother coming to pick you up soon?" I asked.

"That might be difficult." He replied.

"And why is that?" I asked (I think I was a bit dense at that moment from the sake).

"He passed away last year, I came to visit his grave." He explained.

"I'm sorry to hear that." I said, reaching out to stroke his hair.

"It's okay, Ganju, you don't have to feel sorry for me." He mumbled. I could tell he was trying his best not to cry, but the wound was still very fresh.

Hanataro explained how his parents had died in a car accident when he was a baby. Devastated, his older brother moved to America and raised him there. He was a licensed doctor who spent most of his time working to expand their family's medical supply business overseas.

His older brother had been like a father to him. He had been so happy, but just as he was accepted into and about to begin medical school himself, his older brother had developed cancer and at first he seemed to be recovering well, but then took a turn for the worse and died suddenly. Before dying, he had requested that his remains be cremated and buried in Japan.

"He died just after I got accepted into medical school, he was in a lot of pain, but he was so happy, like he had been waiting to find out, so he could pass on in peace." He said as he gazed sadly into his now empty box.

I really wanted to say something to help him feel better. So I told him something that I hadn't talked to anyone else about in years.

"My older brother's gone too."

* * *

><p>With our parents more concerned with making money and attending social events than raising a family, Kukaku and I had grown up knowing our nannies and tutors better than our parents, but Kaien was always there for us. He was a genius, the really great actor in our family; he could recite almost half of Shakespeare's plays from memory before he could drive. I wanted to be just like him. His wife, Miyako, a former model, became his manager. She loved children and treated Kukaku and I like we had been born to her. They were kind and helpful, almost always smiling when they were together; Kukaku and I adored them both. They nurtured our love for music and arts and set us on the road to our own acting careers.<p>

When I was around eight or nine years old, Kaien had landed a major role his first major overseas production as the co-star of some kind of drama. He decided to bring me to the set, since it was being filmed near Kyoto and was as much a shoot as a vacation.

We were having a great time, when tragedy struck. The film crew was setting up a scene as Miyako was making her way across the set to speak to the director. Suddenly, a cable broke and a lighting rig came crashing down on her before she even had time to react.

Kaien had taken a running dive, he tried to push her out of the way, but it had been too late.

I had been on set and witnessed the whole accident, although a production assistant had dragged me away before I could see their crushed bodies. Kukaku had been attending a commercial photo shoot at a studio in Manhattan at the time, I insisted on being the one to tell her what had happened. An investigation later found that the cable holding up the lighting had become caught in some gears the night before and no one had noticed how frayed it had become.

Our family eventually healed, but never fully recovered. Our parents were in shock. Kukaku responded by trying to take Kaien's place in our family, ordering me around and acting protective of me. Since we were so close in age, she had always been more of a rival than a mentor. I chafed and resented her change of attitude at the time, but now I see that it was just her way of coping. I dealt with my grief by throwing myself into my acting career, determined to fulfill the performances and artistic legacy Kaien had dreamed of achieving.

* * *

><p>"He was really handsome." Hanataro said as he looked at the old picture of Kaien that I always kept in my wallet, Miyako hanging off his arm, showing the big grin and messy dark hair, combined with his movie star good looks that had landed him the big roles and always made the ladies swoon.<p>

Hanataro showed me a picture of his older brother, Seinosuke that he kept stored on his phone. He seemed a bit sharper and more worn at the edges where his younger brother was softer and less frayed, but the resemblance was uncanny; he was an older, taller Hanataro.

We talked about happier memories. I told him about how Kaien got me a pet pig we called Bonnie-chan when I was seven years old. Hanataro told me how his older brother had kept a koi pond in his backyard that he still tended. Our conversation continued long into the night, until I reluctantly left for my own room to sleep.

* * *

><p>The television was on and the end of my interview was playing, but I wasn't really watching it.<p>

Doing television and magazine interviews was my least favourite part of being an actor; no matter what movie or product you're promoting, the interviewers always wind up asking the same old questions. Companies always want their stuff promoted and you have to pretend to be interested, even if you think the movie is terrible or the product is junk. What you're selling doesn't really matter so much as how well it sells, it comes with the job.

I really hadn't been looking forward to the interview, mainly because it took away from time I could have used to be with Hanataro. He had seemed just as reluctant to separate himself from me when I told him about the interview. Thankfully, the whole thing had gone by in a blur. The talk show set was gaudy and the host wore a bright green wig and a suit that wouldn't have looked out of place as a villain in a comic book. I had just gone through the motions, smiling and answering the sometimes silly questions the host had asked through a translator who was actually good at both languages.

Thinking about Hanataro had helped it go faster. I really wished that he had come with me, but he was visiting his older brother's grave that day and I couldn't possibly have bothered him at such a personal moment.

I was staring at the text message Yourichi had sent to my smartphone, saying she was in Osaka right now and expecting to catch the bullet train and arrive at the hotel in less than twenty four hours. The plan was for her and Mr. Urahara to accompany me back on the flight to America, to visit Kukaku.

I had a lot of things on my mind. I thought about how my trip was almost over. I thought about all the things Kukaku still needed to teach me about handling fireworks and explosives when I got back. I thought about Kaien, something I hadn't thought about too deeply in years. Hanataro told me how just before his older brother had died, Seinosuke had been able to see him one last time and had been able to hug him, give him some final advice and say goodbye. Would Kaien have said the same to me if he had been given the chance? Don't live in my shadow, don't dwell on the past, or you can't move forward. In a way I did make my own way in the world, though it would have helped to have someone who knew what I had been going through.

The thing I thought about most was Hanataro. I thought about how happy I felt whenever I saw him. I thought about much we seemed to understand about each other even though we seemed so different. I thought about how I wanted to tell him how I felt about him, how lucky I felt for going on this trip and meeting him and how I hoped he felt the same way.

A text message from him on my smartphone jolted me out of my thoughts. Hanataro was back at the hotel and he wanted to meet up. I quickly made my way back to bar where we had first run into each other. I ordered a whiskey sour, he got another coffee. We talked about the things we needed to get back to at home and exchanged addresses. His medical program was in Los Angeles, and Kukaku's cannons were going on stage in Boston, but I wasn't too worried. I was always travelling around anyways, so making a stopover to visit him while wasn't going to be too much of a hassle.

As we drank and talked, I noticed that the karaoke machine wasn't being used. I always liked singing; I had kept my voice in practice long after I stopped doing plays and musicals. It was one thing to sing in front of strangers, performing for people I knew was what made me nervous. But I didn't care, it was the most romantic thing I could think of doing.

I couldn't figure out why I liked this song so much; the melody, notes and rhythm weren't anything unique or inventive, the lyrics were vague, sappy and clichéd. It was structured in the classic several verses, a chorus and bridge near the end. The song title and name of the band were ridiculous. I even thought the movie that had featured it was terrible. It was a song for hopeful, naive high-school students, not weary, fading middle-aged actors. And yet, even after all these years, the song struck a chord in me. I had to sing it, it just felt right for the moment.

"And I'd give up forever to touch you,

'cause I know that you feel the same now,

You're the closest to heaven, that I'll ever be,

And I don't want to go home right now...``

As I sang the opening verses in my pitch-perfect baritone, I noticed a crowd beginning to form around the stage.

"And I don't want the world to see me

'cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am"

"And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming,

All the moments of truth and your lies,

When everything feels like the movies,

Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive"

The irony of that verse was not lost on me.

The instrumental bridge was always my favourite part, building up that tension.

"And I don't want the world to see me

'cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am"

The crowd applauded, but I didn't really notice. All Hanataro and I could see in that moment was each other.

* * *

><p>Things suddenly became strangely silent as we changed and settled into my room. Neither of us had really come expecting that we would need to impress anyone in our sleepwear, so all I had brought with me was a pair of old trousers, while Hanataro slipped into the bed, wearing plain cotton pyjamas. He lay on top of my bare chest and fit neatly into my arms, like a bird in a nest.<p>

For a while we simply gazed at each other. Then he put his hands on my shoulders, pulled himself up, and began kissing me passionately.

"What are you doing?" I asked him.

"Isn't it obvious?" he said as he started to undo his shirt.

I knew he was an adult who had dated before and was going into medical school. But he was so much younger than me, I still couldn't help but view him, well, not as a child, but at least a lot less experienced. Years of studying acting and expressions had left me more attuned to body language, and I could tell, he was still grieving and upset, rushing into this to try and forget his fears. Even if he was initiating it, it just didn't feel right, not just yet.

"Hanataro, maybe we should go a bit more slowly." I said hesitantly.

"Come on, life's too short, we both want this. This is how everything gets wrapped up, right? Two people meet and fall in love and live happily ever after." He asked as he started running his hands across my chest, before he began reaching lower, gliding over my stomach.

"This isn't a movie. Let's just wait a bit." I protested, gently putting my hands over his and stopping them.

"I'm not some clueless virgin, I've had relationships with others." He protested.

"What I mean is, I think you're hurrying this because...you still miss your older brother and you're afraid of being alone." I explained.

"No, I'm ready! I'm over it, I've moved on." He said in a wavering voice as he choked back tears.

The Japanese are famous for their pride, remaining stoic in the face of adversary, sort of like the British concept of keeping a 'stiff upper lip'. But seeing through his mask had caused it to crack and fall away. Beneath the facade of the kind, worldly, wealthy medical student was the timid, lonely young man who had lost his protector, the one closest to him and the wound was still fresh.

"It wasn't as bad as it could have been, it must have been much harder for you. I mean, you were a lot younger, and it was an accident and you weren't able to prepare, but Seinosuke had his affairs in order and made peace with himself, he was ready for it. I was even able to say goodbye to him..." he tried to rationalize his pain as he trailed off as he broke down, wrapping his arms around me and crying softly into my chest.

"Shhh, it's okay." I rubbed small circles on his back.

"He was the only family I had. For a while, I was really scared of being by myself." He admitted quietly, then paused.

"But since I met you, I'm not afraid anymore." He added.

"I'm sure wherever your older brother is, he would be proud of you." I answered.

Hanataro smiled, pulling his shirt back on while wiping his face with the back of his sleeve.

"What's 'good night' in Japanese?" I asked him.

"It's 'oyasumi'." He replied. Then, after a pause, added "Good night.".

"Oyasumi." I said as I kissed him gently on the forehead, then held him for what seemed like hours as he cried himself to sleep.

* * *

><p>I wasn't quite sure how late it was before I finally drifted off to sleep myself. But some time later I became aware of the fact that I was experiencing a dream that was very strange, yet felt extremely real.<p>

Hanataro still lay on my chest, sound asleep with my arm draped over the small of his back. His own arms were wrapped around me, and he was drooling onto my chest. Waking up, he looked at me for a moment and blushed, before squirming out from under my arm. He sat at the foot of the bed and stared ahead, wiping the tears from his face.

Looking around the room, I caught sight of Seinosuke, dressed in robes as black as the night with white trim, wearing straw sandals and carrying a katana. He was sitting at the window sill, speaking to an old woman who sat next to him.

"Are you ready? " he asked the woman.

"Yes, I'm ready to go now." she replied.

I watched as Seinosuke stood up and pulled the sword from his belt, still in its sheath. As the bottom end of the sword handle began to glow, he gently tapped the old woman's forehead with the pommel of his katana blade, and her form shrank into a butterfly, fluttering about for a moment before fading away. Tucking the katana back into his belt, he turned, walked towards and then stood over us, his somewhat smug expression giving way to a slight smile. Hanataro didn't react; it was as though he couldn't see him at all. Pretending to be asleep, I watched him under my eyelids, too confused to react to his presence.

"Yo, Seinosuke." A familiar voice came as a figure emerged from a glowing gate behind him.

It was Kaien! His face was exactly how I had remembered it all those years ago, although I had never seen him dressed the way he was now, carrying a katana and wearing the exact same robes and sandals as Hanataro's older brother.

"Don't you have work to do? " Seinosuke asked, looking slightly annoyed.

"Huh, you're the one to talk. Captain Ukitake said he's feeling another attack coming on and Captain Unohana is busy. You remember what the Commander said, no personal business while on duty." Kaien answered.

"I just wanted to see him for a second, she was in the same room by random chance. " Seinosuke replied as Kaien stood next to him, looking at us.

"Sheesh, your brother's huge, for a moment it felt like he was staring at me back there. You sure they can' t see us?" he asked Kaien.

"Hey, you think I don' t know my little bro? I've visited him and Kukaku lots of times, Ganju would be going nuts if he knew we were here." my older brother replied before turning to me.

"You better be gentle with him, kiddo. I gotta work with this guy." Kaien said as he hiked a thumb in Seinosuke's direction.

"It's not like they can see or hear you, Lieutenant Shiba." Seinosuke rolled his eyes as the magical gate suddenly reappeared behind them.

"You don't need to be formal. I already told you, Kaien is fine. We do have the same rank, you know." Kaien replied with a grin, following Seinosuke as they turned to leave.

"By the way, Miyako invited me over for dinner tonight." Seinosuke stated flatly.

"Hey! It's bad enough when you con your subordinates into cooking for you, now you're pulling one over on my wife, ya sneaky bastard..." the conversation continued as the gate closed behind them and faded away.

* * *

><p>As I woke up and glanced out the window to see the dawn, I realized that the bed was empty. Hanataro wasn't in the bathroom, or sitting at the foot of the bed like he had been in my dream. The television was on and was playing some weird anime show with the volume on low. The characters were wearing those same black robes Kaien and Seinosuke had been sporting, while they were wielding giant swords and magic powers against undead monsters, I think.<p>

Just as I thought Hanataro had gotten cold feet, I noticed the door to my room was propped open, he was just outside the door and already dressed in a pale lavender polo and jeans, having gone back to his room to grab a few things and arrange for the staff to take the rest downstairs.

Reaching for the phone to order some breakfast, I looked out to see police and ambulance vehicles parked in front of the main entrance of the hotel, just starting to drive away.

"What's all that commotion outside?" I asked.

"An old woman down the hall had a heart attack last night. They had already taken her out of the room when I walked by." Hanataro replied.

Okay, that was a coincidence, total coincidence, yeah. Or my subconscious, that was it.

"You didn't have any bad dreams last night, did you?" I asked as I dialled for room service.

"No. Why, did you?" He answered.

I shook my head as I got dressed. It wasn't a good dream, but not what I would have considered a bad dream either. Besides, I wasn't about to tell him I was almost certain I had just seen our older brothers bickering with each other while guiding souls to the afterlife.

"Thank you for last night." Hanataro said as a staff member brought in our breakfast and he sat down at the table.

"What do you mean?" I asked as I ate with him.

"I mean when we started kissing, someone else might have gone through with it. I wouldn't have minded if you did, but I'm glad you didn't." He said as we ate breakfast.

Putting someone else's concerns before my own had made me forget about my own doubts and fears. He still had some healing to do, but now he was ready to move forward, no matter what, together or not. Though together would be kind of nice.

We were no longer lost in transition, at least not overwhelmingly.

As we put away the last of our things and prepared to leave the room, I couldn't think of anything to say, so I leaned down and gave him a peck on the mouth. Hanataro blushed for a moment, then started laughing.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"That's the first time you've kissed me on the lips." He pointed out.

"You're right, it is. Let's do it again." I answered, pulling him into my arms for another kiss as Hanataro returned the affection.

We were just starting to get a nice session going, before his smartphone went off.

"Oh, I just remembered, I have to meet someone in the lobby. She used to work with my older brother, her family runs a huge shipping company." Hanataro said as he looked at the text message on his phone.

Shipping company?

"Is her name Yourichi?" I asked.

"Yeah, you know her?" he said, surprised.

I explained how she was Kukaku's friend as we reached the lobby to find Yourichi talking with Mr. Urahara. I couldn't help but notice that we had two cars waiting for us outside the doors.

"Hi Mr. Urahara, hi Ms. Shihoin." Hanataro greeted the pair.

"Hanataro, Ganju, this is a pleasant coincidence. Guess this saves me the trouble of making another phone call." Yourichi seemed to be feigning surprise at the sight of Hanataro hanging off my arm.

Suddenly, the similarities in our backgrounds, our constant meetings and run-ins, the way everything clicked, all made sense. From behind his fan and hat, Mr. Urahara smiled and winked at me.

"We'll be in the front car." He said cheerfully as Yourichi took his arm before they turned to leave.

I knew it.

"Hey, you think they set us up?" Hanataro asked as he looked up at me; another reminder that he wasn't as innocent and naive as he looked.

I was about to tell him how I was now completely convinced that Mr. Urahara had planned for us to run into each other and for this whole thing to happen, but stopped when I realized it didn't matter. Planned or not, we were in each other's arms, and I had to remember to send Mr. Urahara a bottle of expensive liquor regardless.

Hanataro looked embarrassed about showing affection in front of others, but I didn't care. I pulled him close for a quick kiss before we headed to the car, as he blushed and mumbled something in my ear.


End file.
